


The Twit Limit

by Tinywriter365



Category: Emergency! (TV 1972)
Genre: Gen, venting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:13:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27730579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tinywriter365/pseuds/Tinywriter365
Summary: Cap vents
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	The Twit Limit

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I don’t own anything belonging to Emergency! I am only playing. I will put the boys back in good working order when I am done.

A tired, flustered hand swiped across a newly washed face. The owner of the hand sat down with a hard thud behind his solid desk. He reached into his drawer of the desk and removed a small, well-worn notebook. Unlike the paperwork that was part of his shift, this writing was only for his eyes. The notebook, which has seen better days, was his chance to vent without exploding. The tired hand made quick work of finding an open page and picked up a pen.

KMG 365

The Twit Limit. 

I probably don’t have a lot of time to write this. The county is in an extra special mood today. I’ve officially hit my twit limit. Normally, I can handle them, but today not so much. 

Now it’s not ALL the fault of my guys. Although the next time I meet the Phantom, he is getting six months of latrine duty. Thank God, uniforms dry well under turnouts! That was just the beginning, though.

Then the county twits, or should I say twidiots started. God bless fast food! Let’s see; the first runner-up was the six-year-old who decided the banister of his parent’s stairs made a good necklace. Old enough to know better, too young to care.

Then there was the potential robber. We had to assist the PD on that one. Twidiot thought he could crawl through a dog door. He didn’t figure on the dog door for a little shelter mix that barely made it to my ankle. 

Contestant number three decided to roast their house. They are okay, but the house needs work. Note to self, pull the grill away from the siding before lighting it.

Oh, and the winner of the Twit limit contest. Mind you; it’s not even dinner time yet. A couple of teenage punks thought it was funny to open one of the few hydrants in their neighborhood. Like the grill, we were able to stave off a true emergency.  
I didn’t get a chance to go after them. Mike did it! Yes, my quiet engineer held a very professional come to Jesus meeting with them. He apologized at least ten times on the way back to the barn. I told him there was nothing to apologize for. He took the words out of my mouth. 

I smell something good coming from the kitchen. I’m so glad Marco is cooking today. I’m going to investigate it now that I’ve calmed down. As always, thanks for letting me vent. Until next time.

H.S.

KMG 365

Hunger took over as the book found its hiding spot. The pen found its home next to a pile of paperwork. He’d get that after food. The captain sighed, having reset his twit limit. It was time to find food.


End file.
